


When Worlds Collide

by xTarmanderx



Category: All American (TV), Light as a Feather (TV)
Genre: Asher needs a hug, Crossover, Henry is pure sunshine, Homophobia, M/M, Physical Therapy, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTarmanderx/pseuds/xTarmanderx
Summary: When Asher gets injured during football and ends his season at the start, he’s full of anger and frustration. In one fell swoop he loses his future, his girlfriend, and the only home he’s ever known. Bitterness sets in while he struggles to get back on his feet during physical therapy. Enter Henry Richmond, a blue-eyed boy that sparks an interest deep inside. As Asher struggles to heal physically, Henry helps with his mental scars.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LI0NH34RT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LI0NH34RT/gifts), [ThiamHarpy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiamHarpy/gifts), [manonlemelon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manonlemelon/gifts), [CododylWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CododylWorld/gifts).



> No spoilers beyond the first episode of each show and even then, no major spoilers for the episodes. Some of the situations are similar, but I started writing the fic during the first episode of All American so all similarities are purely coincidental.

Asher knew it was over the moment he hit the ground. 

It happens at practice. One minute he’s preparing to make the catch, the next he’s on the ground with his knee twisted at an awkward angle. He doesn’t remember screaming but Jordan had said they’d heard it clear across the field. It was immediately followed by reassurance that no one thought any less of him but all it does is fuel the anger inside of him, mixed with embarrassment. It takes two weeks for him to be seen by a specialist and get MRI results. They aren’t good. He’s scheduled for surgery two days after the results come, two days after he learns he’s torn his ACL and his meniscus. He misses three weeks of school, unable to get around without crutches and unwilling to face the reality that he’s never going to play football again. The damage is too severe to his leg, the doctor telling him that he’s lucky that the surgery has even a chance of working. He’s not going to be able to even think about trying to run for nine months and it’ll take three to be able to put weight back on his leg. It makes him sick.

Jordan tries everything in his power to help during the first couple of weeks after the incident. He brings Asher his homework and always tries to steer the conversation clear of football. But Asher knows. Spencer has his position now and apparently that’s all Layla is attached to if her breakup text is anything to go by. He pretends he doesn’t care, acts like he’s grateful that he’s free, and refuses to acknowledge the tears that stain his pillowcase some nights. Freedom has never felt so lonely. 

A week after surgery, the doctor recommends a physical therapist and he signs up for his first session. When he tells his dad as he’s being picked up from the hospital - his dad was  _ always  _ too busy for his appointments - the man scoffs and tells him that the doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. No son of his is going through physical therapy. It’s a waste of time and money, it’s for people who don’t have the motivation on their own and Asher can heal with the right attitude and dedication. He just nods mutely and texts Jordan, asking him for a ride to his first appointment the next afternoon. 

“Are you even listening to me, Asher?” His dad snaps. He locks his phone and pockets it, turning his head to watch the other man. “You have to work at this all week. With any luck, you’ll be back on the field by next Friday.” Asher can’t help but let out a hollow laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” he says. “You didn’t hear the doctor. I’m not going to heal and play football. My season is done.” The thought should make him want to scream but instead he’s tired. He’s spent the last few days screaming around an empty house while his father worked long hours and his mother was off getting high. 

“I didn’t raise you to be a quitter.” His dad says sharply. “No son of mine is going to give up that easily.”

“Guess I’m not your son then.” He mutters from the corner of his mouth. He’s quiet as they pull into the driveway, waiting for the car to park before lifting himself as best as he can from his seat. It’s awkward to shuffle around and grab his crutches from the backseat, but he manages, knowing better than to waste his breath asking for help. Making it upstairs is the hardest part and by the time he reaches the landing, he’s sweating and knows he must be pale. But he doesn’t want to lounge in the downstairs bedroom. No, right now he needs the comfort and solitude that his own room provides. He tosses his crutches to the floor and eases down onto his bed, slowly rotating around to settle in. It takes a couple of minutes to move pillows around and get comfortable but he’s finally able to raise it and take some of the pain away. 

His phone is in his hand before he can think it through and he’s calling the only person that might be willing to still talk to him. “Ash,” she breathes out a quiet sigh from the other end of the line. “You really shouldn’t be calling right now. What we had-”

“I can’t play football anymore.” Asher bites out, not wanting her to finish the sentence. “Doctor says I’m finished and I have to go to physical therapy. For the love of god, can we not talk about our past?”

“I...I didn’t know. How is your dad taking it?”

“He’s in denial. Liv, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, taking a shaky breath. “This was supposed to be my year. Scouts were coming to games to recruit and I can’t….” He breaks off and swallows hard, unable to hold back the tears building. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Football is who I am-”

“No, it isn’t.” Olivia cuts him off. “You’re starting to sound like my dad. Football...it’s just something you enjoy. It’s not the end of the world if you can’t play anymore. And who knows? You could kick ass in physical therapy and be able to play again in college. But you’re more than that, Asher Adams. So much more so I don’t ever want to hear you talking down to yourself like that. You’re the guy who loves spicy food and trying new things when no one else wants to. You’ve got one of the biggest hearts, even if you try and hide it behind the asshole facade. You’re proudly bisexual and you’ve never let anyone give you shit for it.”

“Yeah, well, liking guys is the least of my problems.” Asher tells her. He closes his eyes for a moment, lifting a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Olivia-”

“Asher.” His father’s voice is cold from the doorway and his blood freezes from it.  _ Fuck _ . 

“Gotta go.” He hangs up before she can say anything, lifting up slowly on his elbows. “Dad-”

“You’re not one of them.” His lips twist in an ugly sneer. “Tell me. Tell me that you aren’t a faggot-”

“Hey.” Asher narrows his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. After  _ everything _ I have put myself through for you-”

“You’re not the parent, Asher. You haven’t put yourself through anything-”

“Cut the bullshit!” He explodes, heart racing as he starts breathing hard. “Who the fuck stands up for you after every outburst? Every time you get drunk and embarrass yourself in front of the boosters? Who defended you after mom moved out and decided she’d rather pop pills with the gardener? What the hell does it matter to you who I like? All you care about is football!” 

“Get out.” He watches the storm cross over his father’s face, can practically feel the temperature drop around them. 

“What?” Asher asks, feeling sick. He didn’t mean that, did he?

“Get out of my house. If you aren’t going to turn away from this nonsense, then leave.” There’s no room for argument in that tone and it leaves him numb. 

“Dad…”

“Don’t.” His voice cracks like a whip, striking Asher’s heart. “Grab your things and get out. This is no longer your house.” 

“Where am I supposed to go?” Voice breaking, Asher tries to draw in a breath. This feels too much like the panic attacks that he thought he’d left behind in middle school. “You can’t just kick me out. I’m your  _ son _ .” Pleading has always been beneath him, but right now? Right now it’s all he can do. He’s never felt so much like a lost, scared child. 

“No son of mine is queer.” There’s a finality in his tone that shakes Asher to his bones. “Pack a bag and get out.”

“This is my house-”

“You don’t pay any bills. You have no claim to it.” 

“I’m seventeen-”

“Eighteen in a few weeks. You’ll manage.” Harold Adams turns and walks away, leaving him trapped in his thoughts. He can’t breathe. Everything in him feels too tight, his body collapsing in on itself. There’s a ringing in his ears that’s hard to interpret but apparently his fingers work it out faster than his brain. There’s a voice talking to him but he can’t focus. He can’t make out the words. Breathing hard, he screws his eyes shut and does everything he can to tamp down on the panic that’s a rising tidal wave in his chest.

“...sher, what’s wrong?” Olivia keeps asking him questions but he can’t answer them. He sits up, phone clattering onto the hardwood floor. The screen shatters on impact, tiny shards of it littering the floor. He doesn’t have time to wallow or despair. Just like when he’s on the field, he has to dedicate his attention to the task at hand. 

He draws himself out of bed and straightens his shoulders, eyes going vacant as he begins to traverse the room. Putting pressure on his leg is agony but he can’t waste time with his crutches. It won’t be long before his father is back, most likely with a bottle in hand. He’s hidden enough bruises to know that he needs to be long gone by that point. It’s difficult to wrestle his suitcase of of his closet but he manages, leaving it at the foot of the bed before he attempts to gather his clothing. He has no idea what he needs so he takes some of everything. Maybe if he’s lucky, he can hit the ATM before his dad is smart enough to cancel his accounts and take out his money. 

By the time his suitcase is closed and his gym bag and bookbag are crammed to the brim, he picks up his crutches and attempts to balance both bags while dragging his suitcase behind him. It’s awkward, more than embarrassing, and every time his suitcase bangs into his injured leg he lets out a choked moan. There’s no one to ask for help. Even if he could, his pride wouldn’t let him. He has to do this on his own.

The stairs are a battle. Each step makes his head spin and pain has become his new best friend. He’ll have to be careful not to take half his painkillers when he reaches...wherever he’s going. He still hasn’t figured that part out yet. If he still had his phone, perhaps he’d call JJ. The other boy doesn’t ask too many questions and Asher’s stayed with him a small handful of times during his dad’s worst binge periods. His head spins again as he shuffles awkwardly toward the front door and he loses one crutch, landing on his bad leg and crashing into the doorway. The shout that escapes is borderline animalistic and he can’t lock it behind his teeth. The tears start fresh and he clenches his jaw hard enough to make his head throb, attempting to straighten back up. Somehow, he’s able to bend enough to get the crutch that has thankfully fallen across his suitcase and remains propped up. He tosses his keys onto the floor after freeing his flashdrive and a couple of keychains, swallowing hard. The front door opens and he shuffles his bags outside, heart racing as he stares out at the driveway. Where is he going to go? He can’t call for help and there’s no one that lives close enough to rely on. His neighbors are out of town as far as he’s aware. 

A sleek red convertible whips into his driveway and he leans back against the frame of the door, a wet laugh escaping him. Jordan and Olivia climb out, the car still running as they hurry to him. “What happened? Where is he?” Jordan demands, attempting to step around him. Asher’s hand shoots out and blocks his chest, a move that feels achingly familiar. He thinks back to stopping his dad from going after Spencer and everything feels tight. That had been a month and a half prior but it feels like longer. In the last month, his entire world has shifted so many times that he isn’t sure what it’s like to stand on solid ground. 

“Leave it.” Asher pleads quietly. “Let’s just get out of here. You can drop me off at JJ’s.” 

“Like hell. You’re coming home with us.” Jordan says firmly. He bends down and picks up Asher’s suitcase, taking the gym bag from his shoulder. He gives it up without a fight, too tired to argue. Olivia puts a steady hand on his lower back and guides him to the car, holding his crutches while he sinks into the passenger seat. She climbs over into the back and leans forward, squeezing his shoulder tightly. 

“It’s going to be okay.” The words mean nothing to him but he puts on a fake smile as best as he can, covering her hand to let her know that he appreciates it. 

“What happened?” Jordan asks as he slips into the driver’s seat and throws the gear in reverse. His fingers dance against the steering wheel, nervous energy flooding the air around them and making Asher’s panic start to rise again. “Olivia said you were having a panic attack?” 

“That tapping isn’t helping,” Asher mutters. Olivia’s fingers press into his shoulder and then Jordan reaches over, silently offering his hand. He laces their fingers together and for a moment, he feels stable. It’s been a long time since he’s been this close with both siblings. His relationship with Olivia has been strained since the start of junior year and although he and Jordan have stayed close, he knows his best friend is drifting and growing closer to Spencer every day. “Can we hit up the bank?” He asks softly.

“Yeah.” Jordan assures, his thumb sweeping over the back of Asher’s hand. 

“He heard me talking to Olivia.” He confesses in a small voice. “I let my sexuality slip and he overheard. Told me that he wasn’t going to have a queer son.” The words taste bitter on his tongue. “And so I’m out.” 

“Fuck him.” Jordan growls. His fingers clench around Asher’s. “Fucking asshole-“

“Jordy, not helping.” Olivia said softly. “Ash, I’m sorry he did that to you. You know that being bi isn’t wrong?”

“Of course. Fuck him and what he says.” Asher might be hurting but he’s confident in that part of myself. He’d made peace a long time ago and put those demons to rest. 

“Olivia, text mom and have her make up the guest bedroom downstairs.” Jordan said, freeing his hand of Asher’s to turn the steering wheel. 

“Already done.” She says as they pull up to the ATM. Asher hands over his card and gives out his PIN number, telling his friend to draw everything he can. It won’t be much but it’s enough to start him off. He offers his credit card for the same, and when they leave he’s got just over seven grand sitting in his lap. It feels like nothing. 

When they reach the Baker house, Asher is exhausted. His limbs feel heavy and his leg still throbs but the panic has dissipated. He has money now. He’s lost the adrenaline high from his fight earlier and when he reaches for the door handle, his movements are clumsy and he misses twice before catching it properly. “Hang on,” Jordan tells him. He’s around the car a moment later, offering his hand. Asher makes it into a standing position before his legs can buckle but the pain he’s feeling must start to show. Jordan guides him to leaning into his side, strong arm around his waist as they start to walk. It’s an awkward shuffle to the front door but Jordan is patient, helping him every step of the way. Olivia follows with his suitcase, the other bags left behind for the time being. “Step up. You got this.” Jordan encourages as they reach the front door. 

“Shut up.” Asher laughs weakly and steps inside. They make it a few feet before, once again, his whole world flips upside down. Spencer and Layla are wrapped in one another on the couch, his hands holding her face and hers on his waist while their lips are locked. Olivia coughs from behind him and the pair spring apart, both looking at the front door in surprise. Asher wants to be angry. It’s barely been a week and she’s already moved on. They’d had almost two years together. 

“What’s going on?” Spencer asks, starting to get up. 

“Don’t come near me.” Asher warns, his voice unsteady. He’s not sure he can punch him if it gets too close but that won’t stop him from trying. 

“Spencer, Asher’s going to be staying with us for a while. That’s that.” Jordan says, the warning in his voice crystal clear. 

“Asher, what happened?” Layla stands and walks around the couch. Asher hates the way that his heart starts beating faster. “Did you have a fight with your dad?”

“It’s really none of your business.” Olivia says, stepping up to his side.

“We have a history.” Layla frowns. “Ash…”

“You made your choice.” Jordan steps forward, putting himself between Asher and Layla. His eyes cut to Spencer and he shakes his head. “Go on back to whatever you were doing. We’re going to get Asher settled in.” He moves back to help him walk again, borderline carrying him as Asher’s body sags. He keeps quiet as they venture back to the spare bedroom that’s tucked away under the stairs, his eyes struggling to stay open. Jordan sits him on the edge of the bed and starts moving pillows around until there’s a high enough pile for his leg to rest upon. He carefully undoes his metal brace and lifts his leg, a few whimpers escaping as he slowly rotates back on the bed. Jordan moves to his side and helps, keeping his movements as still as possible. It’s comforting and he breathes a little easier as he settles into the mattress.

“Thanks, Jordan.” He smiles tiredly up at his friend. 

“You hungry?” He asks gently. 

“Not really.” Asher admits. “But I need to eat for my medicine.” 

“You’re in luck,” Olivia says from the doorway. “Ham and cheese sandwich, chips, and there’s some popcorn going. I thought we could put on a movie.” She gestures at the tv stationed on the opposite wall as she approaches the bed. He sits up with Jordan’s help, his friend positioning pillows behind his back to support him. Olivia sets the plate in his lap and then hands him the glass of water, smiling softly. “Which bag are your pills in?”

“Gym, I think. Outer pocket.” He watches her rummage through it for a moment before producing the bottle. Handing it over, she steps back as he twists the top and dry swallows three. 

“Asher!” She snags the bottle in one fluid motion, her face pinched. “I know that you shouldn’t be taking that many at once.”

“Just need to kill the pain.” He mutters, picking up his sandwich. “Sorry.”

“Just...don’t be so reckless.” Olivia sighs. “I’m going to get the popcorn. You two can pick the movie. Nothing gory,” she warns before leaving the room. 

“So no Halloween fright night marathon?” Jordan jokes as Asher takes a bite of his sandwich. He shakes his head and swallows, tipping the cup of water against his lips.

“Put on something like Gilmore Girls. She’ll enjoy it and I can sleep.” He suggests. Jordan hums and grabs the remote, starting to set everything up. Finishing his sandwich, he leans over with the small plate and sets it and his water on the nightstand. He removes the pillows from behind himself and sets them to the side, sinking back into an easy position. The exhaustion that’s settled over him like a blanket starts to drag him down and he closes his eyes, exhaling softly. 

He doesn’t stir again until the bed dips on both sides of him and two warm bodies curl into his sides. “What’s up?” He mumbles, blinking his eyes open to glance first at Olivia and then at Jordan. Apparently he’s been out longer than a few minutes, if the empty popcorn bowl on the nightstand is anything to go by. 

“Sh, go back to sleep.” Olivia murmurs as she reaches over and takes his hand. “We’re all going to sleep now.”

“All of us?” It takes a moment to make his brain start working again. They haven’t had a sleepover like this since they were in middle school and he’d had nightmares. The three of them had wound up cuddling in Jordan’s bed and they’d done it several times for the couple of years that had followed. It doesn’t feel any different this time. 

“Yeah. Mom and dad know you’re here and where we are.” Jordan assures. He leans his forehead against Asher’s arm and loops an arm around his waist. “Get some rest.”

“You don’t have to stay.” Asher whispers as his eyes close involuntarily. “I’m fine.”

“Asher Adams, shut up and let us help you.” Olivia says firmly. He smiles and, for a moment, he would swear that soft lips touched his cheek. “Good night.”

“Night,” he turns his head slightly and, in another quiet exhale, he’s out. 


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, he wakes alone. It shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t make his chest tighten, but it does. He rubs tiredly at his eyes, throwing back the blanket that’s draped over him. Pushing up onto his elbows, he takes a moment to look around the room. The first thing that catches his attention is a brand new phone sitting on the nightstand, an envelope propped beside it with his name written on it in Mrs. Baker’s handwriting. He pulls it closer and reads the lovely handwritten note, tears prickling uncomfortably at the corners of his eyes. She’d gone above and beyond for him already, putting a phone in his name and adding a credit card into the envelope with the promise of getting him one with his actual name on it. It makes his heart ache. She’s always been a mother to him, unlike his own. 

He turns and slowly eases his leg onto the ground, grimacing as he realizes his crutches are propped up against the opposite wall. It’ll take two steps to reach, two steps he knows he can’t manage without further fucking up his leg. He takes a few deep breaths and starts to push up with his knuckles from the bed, but a voice in the doorway stills him in motion. “You know you shouldn’t be doing that!” Olivia scolds as she enters the room, walking over with her hands on her hips. “What were you thinking?”

“That I needed to get up?” Asher replies weakly, caught off guard. 

“You should still be sleeping. You’ve got another hour before we need to get going for school. Mom said you can just relax in here and she’ll check in on you-“

“I’m going to school.” Asher says, clenching his jaw. He pushes back up, narrowing his eyes as Olivia grabs the crutches and hands them over. “I had that.”

“Don’t be a dick. Do you want breakfast?” She asks, following as he makes his way to the bathroom. He pauses in the doorway, turning slowly and raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Do you mind?” He asks bluntly. She frowns for a moment, opening her mouth to protest before he nods at the toilet. 

“Oh. Erm...I’m just gonna…” she bites her lip and backs up, her cheeks flushing with color. Once upon a time, he would have loved seeing that on her. Now it’s just a distant memory. 

“I’ll take an omelet after I shower.” He says, turning and making his way back into the bathroom. He listens to her walk away and shuts the door, exhaling slowly. It’s easy enough to lean his crutches on the wall and pulls his pants and boxers down, but showering on his own is going to be a struggle. His servants at his old house had put a bench in the shower to help him out. If his leg wasn’t throbbing so much, he doubted he would have been worried. Sighing, he turns on the shower and shuffles awkwardly to try and finish undressing. Pain sparks up his leg when he has to get his feet out from his pants and boxers, but he bites back the whimper that threatens to leave him. He can do this. 

He makes it precisely a step and a half into the shower before he realizes he can’t properly turn himself around. There’s nothing for him to hold onto. He’s stuck and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. The rage strikes like lightning, hard and fast. His fist clenches and slams into the wall, rattling the bottles around him. The scream echoes in the space around him, sobs wracking his body as he breaks. “Fuck!” He shouts, beating the wall again as tears stream down his face. The door barges open and he tenses, clenching his jaw as he hears someone approach. “Get out.”

“Bro, that’s not happening.” Jordan says quietly. “Why didn’t you just ask for help?”

“I don’t need it.” Asher says, gritting his teeth. He tenses as the curtain is pulled back, Jordan stepping into the space behind him. “I told you to get out.”

“And I said that’s not happening,” Jordan replied. “Can you move forward a little?”

“Jordan, I’m serious.” Asher growls in warning. His friend ignores him and gently grips his sides, maneuvering him carefully around so he’s standing sideways. From this angle, he can see Jordan’s at least wearing boxers. It doesn’t do much to ease the heat in his cheeks, the way his tears have changed from anger to embarrassment. “Why?” He croaks out. He isn’t sure what he’s asking. Why does his heart feel like it’s been shattered in a million pieces? Why is he so embarrassed right now? Why are Jordan and his family being so kind? Why doesn’t his father want him anymore? There are a million thoughts spinning in his head. 

“Because you’re my best friend. I told you in pre-k that I had your back. None of that has changed.” Jordan says softly. “This doesn’t change anything between us, okay? You just need some help. It’s okay to ask for it.”

“My whole life is over, Jordan. All of it. Because I had to push myself to do better, I had to be better than Spencer. Look what it got me.” Anger churns low in his belly as he thinks of the man who has taken over his life. 

“You’re more than a football player, Ash.” Jordan murmurs softly in his ear. “Always have been.”

“Am I?” Asher asks, voice barely above a whisper. “Football is what I’ve done my whole life.”

“Because your dad wanted you to. Asher, what about what  _ you  _ want to do with your life?” Jordan asks. He doesn’t have an answer to that. Football has been his dream since he was a child, since his dad convinced him to play. He’s never had another goal in mind. He tips his head under the water and closes his eyes, exhaling shakily. Jordan washes his hair and body without another word, taking great care to be gentle and not touch him more than necessary. He’s grateful for it. He knows it’s nothing Jordan hasn’t seen before, but this feels far more intimate than all of the locker room moments and one hand job when they were both exploring their sexuality. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs weakly when he steps out of the shower and Jordan wraps a towel around his shoulders. “Sorry I flipped out.”

“Dude. You and I have been through a lot worse,” Jordan reminds, squeezing the back of his neck lightly. “You’re allowed to be upset and lash out. Just don’t try to punch me.” His lips turn up at the corners and Asher laughs, toweling his hair before securing the towel around his waist. 

“Thanks. Think I can manage to get dressed on my own.” He says, grabbing his crutches and making his way into the bedroom. 

“Can you? I dunno man, somehow I can’t picture you bending down and pulling pants on.” Jordan teases lightly. Asher flushes at that, knowing it’s the truth. He eases his way into the bed, propping his crutches beside of him before nodding over at his suitcase. 

“Grab my clothes, I’ve got some sweatpants in there. Any shirt will do. Deodorant is in the outer pocket. Thanks,” he adds softly. Jordan grunts in response and digs through his belongings. A couple of minutes later, Asher’s got clothes on and he feels a little more ready to face the morning. He gets Jordan to hand him the phone on the nightstand, not surprised the entire Baker family is already programmed in. JJ’s number is there too. He drops the phone into his pocket and rotates on his crutches, trudging slowly through the room and into the hall. He makes his way to the kitchen, ducking his head as Laura Baker stops what she’s doing and looks at him. 

“Asher, honey. You want a seat at the bar or the table?” She asks, lifting up the plate in front of her. 

“Bar is fine, Mrs. Baker. Thanks. And thank you for the phone and the card.” He adds softly as he goes to take a seat, biting the inside of his cheek. He leans his crutches carefully up beside himself, making sure they aren’t going to be in anyone’s way. 

“Morning, Mrs. Baker.” Spencer’s greets as he breezes into the kitchen. He halts at the sight of Asher, his mouth parted slightly. “Hey man…”

“Don’t worry, we were just leaving.” Billy says, coming up behind Asher and clapping a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Jordan told me you were going to go to school today. Do you think that’s such a good idea? I’m sure your leg is hurting.”

“I’ll be fine, coa-“ The title dies in his mouth, realization slamming into his chest. Billy isn’t his coach anymore. Asher is no longer a viable member of the football team. He doesn’t feel like he has a right to use that name. “Mr. Baker.” He corrects, the words feeling odd in his mouth. 

“You can call me Billy, you’ve known me most of your life.” His former coach reminds him. It only strengthens the ache in his chest and he gives a weak nod, his appetite rapidly dwindling. “You’re welcome to still call me coach.” He adds, so softly that Asher knows he’s the only one meant to hear. The emotion wells up in his chest and he exhales shakily, nodding his head. “Jordan said you’ve got physical therapy this afternoon. Do you want me to come with you?” He asks. 

“No, but thank you.” Asher says quickly. The last thing he needs is the man seeing him at another low point. He already feels like he’s on thin ice after everything he’s put the family through, the team through. How can they stand to look at him? He doesn’t even want to be around himself right now. 

“Honey, here’s your omelet.” Laura slides a plate across the bar to him and Asher looks up, mouthing a quick thanks at the woman behind Mrs. Baker who actually cooked his breakfast before he thanks Laura herself. She smiles, but there’s a sadness tinged to it that hooks into his chest and tugs on his heartstrings. “If you decide you want someone there with you today, I’m more than happy to go with you. I’m working from home today, so you won’t be putting me out of my way.” She offers. 

“Thank you, but I’ll be okay. Really.” Asher replies, glancing down at the omelet with barely concealed distaste. He doesn’t have an appetite anymore. “It’ll just be me getting assessed and given a couple of exercises to test my range of motion. Nothing exciting.” He says, hoping that will reassure them. 

“Well, call us if you need anything. I mean it.” Billy squeezes his shoulder gently and steps back from him. “If you decide you can’t make it because you hurt too much today, I’ll be glad to bring you back here.” He says before walking around the bar to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Love you. Have a good day.” He says. Asher glances up to watch him leave, quickly looking away when he catches Spencer silently watching him. Living with the other man is going to take some getting used to. He knows he’s been an absolute ass to the other guy, but that kind of behavior can’t go on under the Baker’s roof. Not unless he wants to be kicked to the curb again.

“Hey, bro.” Jordan greets, hopping up onto the barstool beside of him. He sets a pill down on Asher’s napkin, nodding at his omelet. “Eat a few bites and we’ll get going. O’s getting your bag ready.”

“Pretty sure I dumped all of my school stuff out to make room for everything else.” Asher says, thinking of the couple of notebooks and homework that’s most likely been thrown out already. 

“Don’t you worry about school.” Laura Baker says firmly, drawing his gaze. “Billy’s going to let them know you’re staying here. And after school tomorrow, you and I can get some shopping done. I won’t take no for an answer,” she adds as Asher opens his mouth in protest. 

“Yes ma’am.” He says, smiling weakly. He takes a couple of bites of his omelet, forcing the food down despite the rising nausea in him, and dry swallows the pain med when he’s sure his third bite isn’t coming back up. He stares miserably at the half eaten omelet and glances up, ready to apologize for wasting the food. Laura’s back is to him and, before he can say anything, Jordan steals his plate and scarfs the rest down. He slides the empty plate across the bar to his mother, getting up and clapping Asher on the back. 

“Oh, you finished?” Laura turns and grabs the plate, though no one is surprised when it’s immediately taken from her hand. “Are you still hungry?”

“He’s good, mom.” Jordan says. “We should get going. I told O that we’d stop and get coffee on our way in.”

“Thank you for breakfast,” Asher tells her as he gets up. He grabs his crutches and works his way slowly toward the front door, rolling his eyes at Jordan once they’re out of sight. “You didn’t have to do that.” He mutters from the side of his mouth. 

“Do what? I was starving.” Jordan says, shrugging like it was no big deal. “You looked like you were done. I saved us both the hassle.”

“Whatever.” Asher huffs a weak laugh, shaking his head. His smile feels a little less wooden when Olivia joins them, his backpack in her hands. He reaches out and she marches out the front door without a word, heading for the convertible. “Unbelievable,” Asher chuckles to himself as he starts to follow. 

“You know my sis, Ash. Did you really think it would be that easy?” Jordan lifts an eyebrow at him. He sighs and shakes his head, making his way carefully down the driveway to the car. Just like yesterday, the front seat is left open for him. He passes his crutches over the seat to Olivia and slides down into the car, grimacing as pain flares through his leg. “All right, man?” Jordan asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“Fine.” Asher says, swallowing back his nausea and groan of pain. He slouches back into the seat and closes his eyes, focusing on taking a few deep breaths at a time. Just like yesterday, Olivia’s hand finds his shoulder and Jordan’s fingers tangle with his own. He doesn’t say anything, too afraid that his fears and unspoken thoughts will spill out and fracture what he already considers to be strained relationships. He knows Olivia hasn’t forgiven him for their tryst last year and Jordan’s going to continue to drift away from him as he keeps playing football with Spencer, leaving Asher broken on the sidelines. He holds Jordan’s hand a little tighter and his other hands covers Olivia’s as, for the brief time he’s able to, he clings to the people he knows won’t stay by his side for much longer. It’s inevitable that they’ll throw him out, just as his own flesh and blood did. 


	3. Chapter 3

School lights an itch under his skin that he can’t quite scratch. It doesn’t suck, not completely, but he’s in pain and irritable for most of it. He snaps at JJ during their lunch break and immediately feels guilty. It worsens when Jordan gives him a disapproving look and makes the unease in his stomach expand. He gives a weak apology to try and save face, but he’s not sure he’s convincing anyone. He spends the rest of his day with his mouth firmly shut, continuously telling himself not to talk until the final bell rings. He grabs his bag from the floor and gets up, making his way to the parking lot as quickly as he can. The last thing he wants to do is make the twins wait for him. 

There’s a small sense of relief when he reaches the car and there’s no one waiting, though it’s immediately replaced by dread. He can’t rely on them like this, not when they have their own lives to worry about. He knows Jordan has practice after school that he’s going to be late for, knows that Olivia would rather be home than stuck in a car with him for an extended period of time. His whole world is threatening to collapse again, like sinking sand all around him. He tamps down on the panic as best as he can, focusing on breathing in and out through his nose until he hears footsteps approach. He turns to apologize to whichever sibling is here to tell him that there’s been a change of plans and he needs to find a new ride, but the words die on the tip of his tongue. “Hi, Ash.” 

“Layla.” He whispers, feeling his heart threaten to crack open. “Thought you’d be busy with your new boyfriend.” He says, intending for the words to be sharp and hurt. Instead, they’re dull and resigned. 

“I’m never too busy for you.” She says. He wants to argue, protest that her not being around was part of the problem in their relationship, but the words won’t come. “Do you need a ride?” She adds, glancing around the slowly filling parking lot where there’s no sign of the Baker siblings. “I can give you one.”

“I…” Asher follows her gaze, his chest aching when he realizes they aren’t coming. “Can you?” He asks softly, hanging his head. 

“Follow me.” She turns, leading him to her car. He tosses his bag into the back and then his crutches, sliding into a seat that used to be his. “About last night…” she begins, starting the car.

“Can we please not do this?” He asks, voice sounding weak to his own ears. “You’ve got a boyfriend now. I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Layla sighs, slowly backing out of her parking space. “I know how it must look to you, Asher. That I walked away from you and right into his arms. But that’s not what happened.”

“We had two years between us and you broke up with me through a text.” Asher reminds, a sliver of anger unfurling in his chest. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not when he’s confined like this. “Less than two weeks later you were with him. What am I supposed to take away from this, Layla?” His voice rises in pitch. 

“All you cared about was football, Asher. You didn’t care about me.” Layla tells him. It feels like a punch in the stomach. “I’m not sorry that I walked away from an unhealthy relationship.” She says, glancing over at him for a moment. “Which clinic am I driving you to?” The change in topic throws him off balance for a moment and he looks up, surprised they’re about to turn out of the parking lot. He gives her the directions and glances out the window, fighting back the tears that are trying to break free. “Asher.” Layla sighs softly and he shudders faintly. “You know we weren’t good together.”

“I loved you.” Asher tells her instead of denying her words. “Was it really that bad between us?” He asks. His phone starts vibrating against his hip and he jolts, reaching into his pocket and jabbing the power button.

“It wasn’t really that great. You and me...we were never a good match.” Layla answers. “We were just two lonely people trying to not be so alone.”

“Yeah.” Asher whispers, not knowing what else to say. The silence stretches between them until she’s pulling into the parking lot, idling her car by the front door. “Thanks for the lift. Don’t worry, you won’t need to give me another.” He says before climbing out, shuffling awkwardly to the back to gather his things. He heads inside without another word, taking a deep breath before he approaches the receptionist. He pulls out his wallet and health insurance card, more than grateful that his father hasn’t removed him from it yet. He’ll have to call his mother and see if he can get put on hers. He pays cash upfront for the appointment and takes the paperwork he needs to fill out, going and sitting down. He’s signing the third page when the front door opens a little more harshly than anyone expects, several people jumping in surprise. He looks up just as Jordan stops in front of him, mouth parted in surprise. “Hey-“

“You are an absolute jackass.” Jordan informs him, an unhappy snarl twisting his lips. “How could you make us worry like that? We thought something had happened, man! No one knew where you were. Mom and dad were freaking out, Olivia was ready to call the police. You’re lucky JJ saw you get in the car with Layla and that my dad called around and found out which clinic you were at.” Asher sinks a little lower in his seat, dropping his gaze back down to his paperwork. He doesn’t know what to say to make it better. “And you turned your phone off? What the hell, man? Seriously?” Jordan throws up his hands and takes the clipboard from him, flipping through it. He marches it up to the front desk and returns, crossing his arms over his chest as he sits down beside Asher. “First, you went off on JJ. Not cool. Then you ditched us after school and ignored our calls. What the hell, dude?”

“I thought something came up.” Asher whispers, unable to look up at his best friend. “I didn’t know you were still coming. I’m sorry.” The words carve a new hole in his heart. At this rate, he’s not going to have much left of one. He’s not sure he’s ever really had one if what Layla said was true. 

“I went to my locker to grab a couple of books. Olivia was telling our dad we were taking you here. Then we got to the car and no one had seen you. We called mom to make sure you hadn’t been picked up and your calls just started going to voicemail. For all we knew, you’d taken the cash you pulled out and skipped town. It was stupid and selfish of you.” Jordan tells him. 

“I know.” Asher says, staring resolutely ahead. Someone comes for him at that moment and calls him back to be seen. He grabs his crutches and gets up, shuffling forward a few steps before he glances back over his shoulder. “You really shouldn’t be surprised. I never change.” He says, turning back and following the woman waiting for him. She leads him back to a small office and he takes a seat, leaning back with his head against the wall. He zones out until the physical therapist arrives, nodding his head along as the man presents copies of his X-rays and asks him a few questions. He leads Asher into a small gym where there are a few people working with other therapists, motioning for him to sit on a bench. 

“Asher, I’d like to start by testing your range of motion.” The man begins. His pager goes off and he sighs, shaking his head as he glances down at it. “I’m sorry. Give me just a moment.” He says, smiling apologetically before walking to the phone on the wall. Asher takes the time to assess the room, grateful he doesn’t know the other occupants. One is a middle aged women who is lifting small weights in the far corner. The other is another teenage boy on crutches, who looks up the moment Asher looks at him. Startling blue eyes hold his gaze and Asher loses himself for a moment, his breath caught in his chest. The boy smiles and offers a welcoming nod, reaching for his crutches. He slowly makes his way over to Asher, sitting down on the bench beside of him. 

“Man, am I glad to see someone else my age.” The boy laughs. “I’m Henry.”

“Asher.”

“Let me guess...football injury?” Henry asks, gaze traveling up and down his body for a moment. 

“Lucky guess,” Asher scoffs. 

“You’re wearing a football hoodie.” Henry grins at him. “Mine was a car accident. Lucky all I got was a few broken bones. Had to have ankle surgery though.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Torn ACL?”

“And meniscus. Surgery on both.” Asher says, surprised at how easily the words come out. “What school do you go to?”

“I’m technically taking a year off. I finished my first year at UCLA.” Henry tells him. 

“Oh.” Asher doesn’t know why the information disheartens him. Maybe because he doesn’t have a chance in hell with a college guy. “I’m a senior at Beverley.”

“Nice!” Henry’s eyes light up. “We just moved to the area, I lived not too far from here though. My family just needed a chance of scenery.” Asher can tell it isn’t the full truth, but it isn’t his place to pry. “Maybe you could show me around?” He wants to accept the offer, but he forces himself to shake his head. He tells himself he’s imagining the other boy looking disappointed. 

“Not sure I’ll be around for much longer. Insurance trouble.” Asher says. He doesn’t need to tell some stranger that there’s a chance he won’t even be in town by the time his next appointment rolls around. He’s relieved when the physical therapist returns, hoping they can get started and he can get going. He’s starting to need another painkiller. 

“Henry, glad to see you’ve rested and made a friend. Will I see you again next week?” The man asks. 

“Tuesdays and Thursdays are all yours.” Henry assures as he gets up, grabbing his crutches. “It was nice meeting you, Asher. I hope to see you around.” He smiles warmly and heads off, leaving him alone with his therapist. Asher watches him go, blushing slightly when the man has to repeat his questions for him. He undoes his brace and lets the man test his leg, snapping himself back into the present and focusing on the task at hand. 

The next hour is gruelling. Asher’s leg is in worse shape than they’d originally anticipated and he knows it’s from what happened at his house. He doesn’t waste the energy being upset about it, it’s too late to do anything. He turns his phone back on and ignores the voicemails and texts he has waiting for him, using it to write down the exercises he’s supposed to practice twice a day. It’s little things since his range of motion is limited, but it’s a start. He grabs his crutches and goes back the way he came in, stopping with a receptionist to schedule his next appointment. If he sets it for Tuesday and smiles slightly, no one else needs to know why. He pulls out his phone and steps into the lobby, ready to call a cab. Jordan is sitting and waiting for him, glancing up from whatever homework he’s been doing. 

“You ready?” Jordan asks, slowly starting to put his stuff away. 

“Yeah…” Asher swallows hard and nods, bracing himself. He’s surprised Jordan stayed around for longer, but a part of him was expecting it. He’s confident that his former best friend isn’t finished yelling at him and chewing him out. He keeps quiet as they go out to the car, carefully putting his stuff in the back before climbing in. Jordan’s fingers tap a nervous beat against the steering wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“I’m sorry.” Jordan says, exhaling in a loud whoosh. “I shouldn’t have gone off on you. You had me worried, man. And finding out you were with Layla? I definitely got more upset than I needed to. You’ve been through a lot in the last day and I wasn’t really helping.”

“I shouldn’t have done it.” Asher says, sighing. 

“What did she say to you?” Jordan asks, glancing over. Asher looks away, focusing his gaze on the mirror on his side of the car. 

“Nothing but the truth.” He replies softly. He can feel Jordan still looking at him, but he can’t bring himself to look back. One ounce of pity in those eyes is going to bring his entire world crumbling down. At least what’s left of it. “Did you tell your parents you found me?” He asks, hating the thought of them sitting at home still worrying. 

“Called as soon as you went into your appointment. Dad understood.” Jordan says. Asher doesn’t get it until he takes a look at him, seeing his jersey. 

“I made you miss practice. Fuck-“

“Dad cancelled it. Don’t worry.” Jordan assures. Asher starts to nod until he realizes why. Billy Baker has never cancelled practice, even when he’s been out sick. Usually one of the assistant coaches takes over instead. For him to cancel…

“Because of me.” Asher whispers the realization, his throat feeling tight. Because he made the man worry and stress about his whereabouts. Because he’s let him down, just as he always does. Even when he’s not playing football, Asher is still screwing things up for the team. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Jordan continues, pulling into his neighborhood. Asher can’t answer him, not without wanting to scream, so instead he focuses on what he needs to do next. Jordan parks and Asher grabs his bag, avoiding eye contact when Jordan throws him a look. He grabs his crutches and makes his way into the house, eager to get to the guest room where his painkillers are waiting. He makes it around the corner and time grinds to a halt. The Baker family is sitting in the living room, Spencer thankfully absent, and all eyes turn to him. He can’t do it. 

“Asher-“ Billy begins. He shakes his head and double times it for the bedroom, ignoring the fresh waves of pain flaring through his leg. He shuts the door to buy himself some time, glancing around the room. His suitcase and gym bag are exactly where he left them, untouched by the help. He struggles to grab both and flashes back to the previous night, anxiety and panic making his limbs quiver. He awkwardly makes his way down the hall with his bags, clenching his jaw as Jordan and Olivia both get in his way.

“It’s fine.” He tries, attempting to step around them. “I’m gone. I’m sorry.” Jordan’s hand moves out and he flinches back, hard enough that his crutch catches on his suitcase and clatters to the ground. He feels sick to his stomach with shame when he sees Jordan’s wounded expression. 

“Asher.” Billy’s voice is firm. “Come and have a seat.” He doesn’t want to do that. He wants to run out the front door as fast as he can and not look back. But he’s helpless to obey, especially when Olivia takes him by the arm and guides him around the couch to sit down. She sits beside of him, keeping her hand on his arm. Jordan stands a few feet away, looking confused and hurt and angry and a million other things Asher can’t place. “Son,” Billy begins after taking a deep breath, “I don’t know what’s going on with you. You had us all worried about you when you disappeared this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry-“ Asher tried again, feeling like a broken record. 

“I’m not finished.” Billy says gently. “We thought something had happened to you. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.” He continued softly. “Did you and Jordan get into a fight? You and Spencer?” He probes. 

“What? No, I wouldn’t.” Asher says quickly. He thinks back to Jordan yelling at him and tries not to panic. Does that count as a fight?

“Asher, no one is mad at you right now. It’s okay to be honest.” Billy tells him. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “What happened after school today?”

“I didn’t think Jordan and Olivia were coming. I thought something had come up.” Asher says. At this point, there’s no reason to be dishonest. “Layla showed up and offered me a ride. I didn’t see them, so I just...went with her.” It sounds stupid to say out loud. “I’m so sorry to make you all worry.”

“Jordan said you were upset when he got to the clinic.” Billy continues patiently. “And now you’re packing your bags and about to walk out. What happened?” He asks again, holding Asher’s gaze this time. 

“Why do you care?” Asher whispers. He watches the surprise and hurt ripple through each family member. “Why are you trying to look out for me?” He presses, needing an answer. “You’re some of the last people that should care about me.” The words taste like acid, but he needs to say something if he doesn’t want to be consumed whole by them. “Olivia, you should want nothing to do with me. I took advantage of you during your weakest moment. I can’t take that back. Mrs. Baker, I hurt your daughter. I fought with your son on the football field. I don’t deserve your kindness.” He turns his gaze to Jordan next, hating the way the other boy looks so broken. “I screwed up our friendship. All I do...all I  _ did  _ was whine and complain when we were on the field. You were right. I didn’t care about letting my actions hurt the team and I didn’t care that I was hurting you. You always stuck your neck out for me and I just kept letting you down. I can’t take any of it back.” He lowers his gaze and steels himself before looking at Billy. “And I kept letting you and the team down. I didn’t accept Spencer, I wanted him gone the moment he stepped onto the field. I made your job harder than it needed to be and then you cancelled practice today because I screwed up. I’m not even on the team and I still can’t do things right.” He takes a deep breath, doing everything he can to keep the tears at bay. “I know how badly I’ve hurt this family. How much I keep hurting all of you. I don’t deserve you being nice to me.” He looks pleadingly at Billy, willing the older man to understand. All he finds is sadness and resignation. Good. Billy at least gets it. He reaches for his crutches, going completely still when Billy’s hand stops him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” The older man asks.

“To call a cab.” Asher says, confusion flooding through him. 

“Son, you’re not going anywhere.” Billy tells him firmly. “You’re staying here in this house. You’re not alone. You’ve made mistakes and they’ve hurt, but we haven’t been there for you either. We aren’t turning you away when you need us most. We’re family.” The words shatter the last of his self control. He isn’t aware that he’s crying until Olivia wraps her arms around him from beside him and soon, everyone is hugging him. He cries until he feels like there is nothing left, until the ache in his chest is a dull throb. Broken apologies spill from his lips and each one is shushed and reassured. He’s exhausted and strung out by the time he’s managed to stop crying, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed. He leans into Olivia when everyone else has finally settled back, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed. Mrs. Baker has a different plan in mind and so they shuffle into the dining room for a family meal. 

“Where’s Spencer?” Asher asks, glancing down at the small portions he’s given himself. He definitely isn’t avoiding the sympathetic look from Mrs. Baker. Not at all. 

“He’s working tonight, picked up a shift at the diner after practice got cancelled.” Billy explains. “How was physical therapy?”

“Hard. My leg is more messed up than it should be. I made an appointment for next week. Tuesday.” Asher says, hesitating a moment. “I’ll need to get health insurance figured out by then. I thought I could go and ask my mom.” 

“We’ll see about adding you to ours.” Laura speaks up, smiling across the table at him. “Asher. You’re living with us now. Let us help you.” She says gently. He nods, knowing he can’t really argue. The rest of dinner passes as a quiet affair. The air is different between them now, but it doesn’t feel so stifling. He eats his meal and gets a small portion of seconds under Laura’s watchful eye, knowing better than to protest. He excuses himself after dinner and goes to collect his bags to take back to his room, surprised when Jordan is already there picking them up. They wordlessly head back to the guest bedroom and Asher sits down on the bed, feeling off kilter as he takes off his brace and settles his leg on top of the pillows. Jordan doesn’t speak to him at first, focused on unpacking Asher’s suitcases into drawers. When Jordan finishes unpacking the clothes shoved into Asher’s gym bag, he closes the bedroom door and turns to look at him. 

“Were you ever going to say anything?” Jordan asks, watching him intently. 

“About what?” Asher asks, reaching back and adjusting his pillow against the headboard.

“I saw the bruises in the shower this morning.” Jordan says, taking a deep breath. “And then when I reached out earlier...you thought I was going to hit you, right?” He barrels on, not giving Asher a chance to confirm his thoughts. “We’re best friends. Why couldn’t you tell me he was hurting you? Why didn’t you tell any of us?” 

“Because there was nothing you could have done.” Asher shrugs weakly, looking down at his lap. “Because he was all I had left. He was the only person that wanted me.”

“Dammit, Ash! That’s not true.” Jordan storms closer to the bed and, try as he might, Asher can’t help but tense up. Jordan blows out sharply and backs up, looking wounded all over again. “You’re my best friend. How did I miss this?”

“I didn’t want you to know. Any of you.” Asher whispers. “What do you want me to say, Jordan? I couldn’t just turn him in. He’s my dad. You and I haven’t exactly been seeing eye to eye these last few weeks.” He reminds. Jordan’s expression crumples at that and he nods at the space beside him on the bed. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you. I was ashamed, Jordan. I was embarrassed to have a drunk and an abuser for a dad. I’m screwed up. When my dad started losing everything last year, that’s when he started taking it out on me.”

“That’s why you got so upset when Spencer joined the team, right?” Jordan asks, easing down beside him. “Because your dad was going to be more upset if you didn’t get playing time.”

“Part of it. I felt threatened. I saw from day one that Layla had an interest in him. Then you started taking his side more and more. I just felt like I didn’t really have anything going for me. I was losing the people I cared about and no one could see what was happening. I couldn’t take it back out on my dad, so I started taking it out on everyone else. Shitty excuse, but it’s the truth.” Asher closes his eyes, shuddering as Jordan takes his hand. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I let everything else come between us.” Jordan drops his head onto his shoulder, leaning into his side. “You’re my best friend, Ash. I’m sorry this has happened. I’m sorry it got this far.” 

“You don’t owe me an apology.” Asher says, shifting until he’s a little more comfortable. He leans his head against Jordan’s, taking a deep breath. “We’ll be okay, right?”

“Right. I’m not going anywhere.” Jordan promises. It’s enough to make him smile a little and not feel quite so alone. He’s got a lot of things to make up for and he knows this doesn’t mean everything is forgotten. But he’s going to do whatever it takes to make sure his friendship doesn’t suffer more than it has. 

**Author's Note:**

> Asher’s injury was something I wrote and when All American happened, all of my friends came screaming at me telling me I was a little bit psychic. I hope you guys enjoy!


End file.
